


True love

by coldweathergal



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23279131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldweathergal/pseuds/coldweathergal
Summary: Little snapshots of Jane and Lisbon's new relationship.
Relationships: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon
Comments: 15
Kudos: 94





	1. Look at us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is "Look at us" by Vince Gill. I do not own the lyrics or the Mentalist.  
> This is just a collection of little scenes based off the song. They're chronological (except for the second-last one), beginning right after season 6 ends.

_Look at us_  
_After all these years together_

Cho stood at the window on the TSA detention cell. Jane and Lisbon were sitting across from each other. Not doing anything but smiling at each other. That was a little strange, certainly. In love, though? He still couldn't wrap his head around it.

After all, they'd been 'together' for years. Gone through enough life-threatening situations to cover three lifetimes. Each. They'd never shown each other anything more than respect. And even that only about half the time. He was pretty sure the closest they'd ever gotten to each other physically was when Jane would put his hand on her back to lead her to the car or the scene of the crime.

The guard looked up at him. "You here for this guy?"

"Yeah."

"Troublemaker." (Tell me about it, thought Cho.) "His girlfriend's just as bad, too. She shows up, starts smooching him. At least they're behaving now."

Cho turned and looked at them again through the window. They still hadn't noticed him. He couldn't help but notice the undisguised adoration in their gazes. How had they hidden that for all those years?

He was sure his eyes were wide as saucers.

Small saucers, though. His poker face wasn't _that_ bad.

_Look at us_  
_After all that we've been through_

Abbott walked in. He didn't say anything, just stood there looking at them. Lisbon felt herself blush to the roots of her hair. Jane, of course, despite being the one in trouble, was completely unflustered. Lisbon kicked him under the table. His smile actually widened, if such a thing were possible.

Abbott was grinning to himself, though he held a grave face on the outside. Jane was starting to behave more the way that he'd been warned about. He was happy for them. He had felt bad about dismantling the CBI. He was glad they were happy now. They deserved it, after everything that had happened to them. He couldn't think of anyone whom he wished happier.

They were an entertaining couple - the next few weeks were going to be interesting. No, knowing Jane, he was pretty sure the next few _years_ were going to be interesting.

_Look at us_  
_Still leaning on each other_

"It's time to go," Abbott said, sounding stern. Lisbon was cowed, Jane was not. "By the way, Jane, you owe me a few favours for this."

"Meh. You're delighted. Not quite as happy as I am, though." Jane leaned over to Lisbon. "You're a great kisser, by the way."

Both men watched with interest as Lisbon turned scarlet. She leapt out of her chair, marched over to Jane, and hauled on his arm with enough force to wrench it out of its socket.

"Ow!" he complained.

"That is totally inappropriate!" she hissed at him, draping his arm over her shoulders. Because of their height difference, he was literally falling all over her. He took the opportunity to kiss her on the cheek.

"Concentrate on walking," she ordered him. "And stop leaning all your weight on me. Do you want me to collapse?"

"That would be easier if you hadn't just crippled my good leg," he whined.

She snorted. "You deserved that. And stop kissing me!"

Abbott followed them out. Yes, this was going to be fun.

_If you want to see_  
_How true love should be_  
_Then just look at us_

James Rawlins was looking on in interest from his front porch rocking chair.

A man and a woman were trudging along the side of the road. The woman was dripping wet and muddy. They were too far away for him to hear the words, but the man seemed to be apologizing.

The woman was louder. Her voice carried all the way down the street.

"Get away from me, Jane."

A mumble from the man.

"I don't care! _You_ sent me down to that dock for 'clues'. I'm sure you knew the suspect would be there."

"I didn't know he would tackle you."

"Jane."

"Yes?"

"You're going back with Fischer."

"But it's a five-hour drive!"

"You're right. Poor Fischer. Well, we're all on the same team, we all have to take turns putting up with you. And I've had enough for today."

The man put his arm around her. She elbowed him in the ribs. James grinned. This was why he was always out sitting on his front porch. A man had quality entertainment out here. Much better than that garbage that passed as prime television.

He watched as the man swung something shiny in front of the woman. She let out a roar.

"My keys! Jane, you're a dead man!" He took off running down the street, the woman right behind.

James settled back into his chair. A small smile played upon his lips. Those two made him miss his wife, God rest her soul. Nothing like being in love to make you fight like a couple of wolverines.

_Look at you_  
_Still pretty as a picture_

"I might be paranoid," Lisbon whispered, "but that guy at the counter - red shirt - keeps looking over at us."

Jane had already noticed. He said as much.

"Thanks, Mr. know-it-all," she huffed. "Care to explain why?"

He grinned incredulously. "You don't know?"

She glared at him. "I am not in the mood. It's been a long day and it's only lunchtime, and I have no intention of playing guessing games right now."

"Well, if you keep up that ferocious look much longer, I'm pretty sure you'll scare him off."

She was disgusted. "What?"

"He's thinking that you're the prettiest girl he's seen all day, which is impressive considering he works at a clothes store. Jeans department is my guess."

She stared at the man. Jane shook his head. Why would women never believe that they were beautiful? Sure, she was in work clothes - that didn't mean anything. He reached out, took her hand.

"You're gorgeous. Too bad for him that you're mine."

She looked down at her sandwich. He grinned. She was getting better at hiding her blushes. He could barely tell this one was there. He'd have to amp up his game. She was so much prettier with some red in her cheeks.

He'd have to get a picture of her blushing somehow. She'd hate him forever for that. Now, how would he go about it...

_Look at me_  
_Still crazy over you_

Jane slashed at the ropes. Freed, Lisbon streched her arms over her head for the first time in 38 hours. The pain caused by the movement almost made tears spring to her eyes. Jane crushed her in his arms, ignoring the fact that she was dirty and probably smelled.

Cho handed her a water bottle. "Drink."

She drank. Cho took back the empty bottle and stood up.

"I'll go throw this out."

Lisbon was too tired to notice that the room was now empty. She leaned back into Jane.

He was mumbling into her hair. "Oh, Teresa, I'm so glad I found you. I'm so happy you're safe. I love you. I love you so much, Teresa."

Thinking of him, knowing he'd find her, that was what had kept her sane throughout her kidnapping. It was a few minutes before she realized he was crying. She twisted, trying to look at him. Trying to wipe his tears away.

He held her tighter. "No, no. Stay calm. We need to get you checked out."

She could feel him trembling. "How did you find me? Please tell me you didn't cause an international incident."

He stroked her arms, oh so gently. For the first time, she felt safe enough to let her tears fall.

His voice was soft, broken. "Not knowing where you were... I went crazy."

_Look at us_  
_Still believin' in forever_

"Will you marry me?"

Lisbon was absolutely not going to cry. She was a fully grown woman, far past the sentimental age. "Yes."

Jane, smiling tenderly, pulled her to him. Kissed her tears away.

_In a hundred years from now_  
_I know without a doubt_  
_They'll all look back and wonder how_  
_We made it all work out_

"Jane, you absolutely _cannot_ call me 'baby' when we're interrogating a suspect! It's unprofessional!"

"But it's our thing."

"I don't care!"

"If you're worried about losing your authority, I can tell you that the guy was terrified of you. That death glare you shot me sealed the deal for him. He confessed then, you'll notice."

"I DON'T CARE!"

"Should I call you snookums instead?"

Abbott walked out to see what the commotion was about. He was just in time to see Jane duck an airborne pewter pig nursing 5 piglets. (A gift from him to Lisbon. He'd told her "I saw it and just thought of you".) Abbott suddenly remembered some paperwork that urgently needed doing.

"You could have brained me!"

"Yeah! I'll have to work on my aim."

"Oh, you don't mean that."

"Jane, if you don't shut up, I'm going to install deadbolts on all the doors back home and lock you out."

"I'd do worse," muttered Fischer.

"It's a miracle how they put up with each other," said Wiley. He suddenly realized how that sounded. "I mean, uh, Lisbon's nice. She's just, uh, vocal, that's all."

Stop talking," Cho deadpanned.

"Right. Okay. I won't say anything else. I'm shutting up. Right... now."

Jane produced a chocolate bar from nowhere and placed it in front of Lisbon. She ripped it open and took a huge bite.

"Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

"No. This means that I have a chocolate bar and I still don't want to talk to you."

But it was too late. Everyone in the room could see she was fighting back a smile. Well satisfied, Jane laid down on his couch.

Fischer shook her head, turning back to her work. "I'll never get it," she muttered.

"Don't feel bad. I don't think anyone does," replied Cho.

"I don't think anyone could figure it out, even if they lived to be a hundred!" Wiley piped up. Cho looked at him. Wiley became very interested in his screensaver.

Jane sat up on his couch, a devilish smirk on his lips. "Baby, will you get me some tea?"

_Chances are_  
_We'll go down in history_

"This man was the driving force of the greatest investigative team this country has ever seen. He was able to take in a scene at a glance and draw accurate sociological conclusions based on his observations. He was what is commonly known as a 'mentalist', which means he read body language to determine a person's emotional and psychological background and, therefore, their probable actions.

"His extremely successful career as a psychic ended when a serial killer named Red John murdered his first wife and their child. He then threw his efforts into crime solving. He worked at a now-defunct organization called the California Bureau of investigation, or CBI for short. His ultimate goal was to find and kill Red John. In the process, he uncovered the largest conspiracy this country has ever seen: an association of corrupt cops known among its members as the Blake Association.

"He spent two years on a South American island, to escape going to jail for the murder of Red John, before the government was able to track him down. In view of the almost unbelievable record of closed cases he had left behind him, one man with a vision set out to assemble the perfect crime-solving machine. He tracked down this man and brought him back to the States, clearing him of the murder charge. The man refused to work for him unless his previous team leader, a woman, were offered a job in the same unit.

"Now we must talk about this woman. She plays a very important part in this man's life. He was a psychopath in every sense of the word, and he had nothing left to lose, yet this woman managed to control his outrageous schemes with some degree of success. He reportedly said about her: 'She's a fixer-upper. Everything she sees: animals, people, anything. She fixed _me_ up even though I didn't want her to. She made me a man again.'

"It was his weakness for her that led to his eventual discovery. Whilst in hiding on the island he would write her letters. These were eventually traced back to him. Once they were reunited in Austin, he declared his love for her. They were married shortly thereafter and continued to solve crimes for some decades."

In the 23rd row, section H, a boy nudged his girlfriend. "What's with old Towser?" he asked, not bothering to whisper. "Getting all soft on us."

She glared back at him. " _Dr. Townsend_ is a fine professor. Just because we're studying criminology doesn't mean you have to be so cynical all the time. I for one appreciate the romance in this story."

He rolled his eyes. "I have nothing against romance. I go see those rom-coms you drag me to, right? I just don't care about a 50-year-old love story." She smacked his arm. "Ow! You know, I'll bet that wonderful woman he's talking about never hit that mentalist psychopath."

She rolled her eyes. "That's because I'll bet he wasn't a patch on you."

_When they want to see_  
_How true love should be_  
_They'll just look at us_

The old groundskeeper trudged out into the pale October sun, rake in hand. It was a depressing day.

He sighed. He hated raking. All the dead leaves littering the ground, couldn't they fall somewhere else? But the job needed to be done. He walked over slowly the the northeast corner - the farthest corner. Leaning on his rake, he watched in interest as a dark-haired woman entered the graveyard, a man on her arm.

He knew the woman, of course. He knew or recognized 'most everyone who came here. This particular woman had been coming every year in early October for the last twenty years. The interesting part was that this was the first time since her brother had grown up that she hadn't come alone.

The old man watched as they meandered over to her parents' graves. The woman always had flowers only for her mother's grave. There were a million possible reasons for this, and the old man was not the type who needed to have his curiosity satisfied. He was content to watch and speculate. It helped him pass the long, lonely days.

Now they were standing in front of the gravestones. The man put his arm around her and held her hand. Even from a distance of 50 feet he could see her relax. They stood there, quietly.

The old man smiled gently. People moved slower in graveyards. They took their time, ambled along. It was a nice change from the frenetic pace just outside the gates. The nervous energy there always took him by surprise on the rare occasions he went out.

After a while the couple turned and began walking toward him, back to their car. The woman looked peaceful now. He was grateful. She had always looked more tired, more stressed before. He was willing to bet the change had a lot to do with the man beside her, still holding her hand.

He was glad of it. Graveyards were not supposed to be depressing. They were supposed to be a calm, peaceful oasis in time, a place where you could find solace and closure. You were supposed to leave feeling acceptance and peace, not great sadness.

He could tell that she had finally found hers. He wanted to run after the man, tell him to take good care of this woman, she deserved it. But then, he stepped aside to pull open the gate for her, and the old man saw his face clearly for the first time. The love in his eyes showed clearly that he wouldn't need any advice on treating her like a queen.

Smiling a little more now, the groundskeeper bent to his work. He didn't like raking, but he could allow that if the dead leaves didn't fall off the trees, then there wouldn't be another spring, with fresh green buds and new promise.

He turned to look once more at the couple. She had her arm around his waist now. They were still moseying along. The atmosphere of the graveyard hadn't worn off them quite yet. She tucked her head into his shoulder.

The old man turned back to his work, humming a little. It was so nice to know that love still existed in this world. And the kind of love he'd seen in their eyes lasted a lifetime, he knew. Maybe two. He closed his eyes, turned his old worn face up to the sun.

What a beautiful day, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an aside - the pewter pig thing actually happened. My grandpa bought one for my aunt. The sad thing is he wasn't joking when he said it reminded him of her.  
> And someone asked, so: "He wasn't a patch on you" is an expression that means - in this instance - 'he wasn't anywhere near as much of a pain/annoying as you are'. (So sorry if it's more obscure than I thought, I use that expression all the time, but my language is a trifle old-fashioned.)


	2. L O V E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is L.O.V.E. by Nat King Cole. I do not own this or any other song.

_L_   
_Is for the way you Look at me_

She's never seen anything close to the look on his face at this moment. She'd suspected he cared for her, but now she knows she'd had no idea of the depth of his feelings.

She wants to see that look on his face again, only in a more _private_ setting. Like, for instance, one where there isn't a security guard watching them and banging on the window?

_O_   
_Is for the Only one I see_

"Teresa?" It's amazing, a detached part of her mind thinks, how she can go from comfortable to panicked in the blink of an eye. Even over the phone it's obvious in Jane's voice that something bad's happened. She takes a moment to calm herself, trying to speak in a reasonable voice.

"What happened?"

He chuckles softly. "It's all right. No life-threatening injuries. There was a pileup on the highway. Abbott and I were on the fringes, so the car's totalled but we're alright."

She's very impressed with herself that her Jane lie detector even works over the phone. "Don't give me that." She lets annoyance creep into her voice.

"Fine." She can hear his smile. "You're getting better at that, by the way. Well, we're not bad enough to be given priority. You would not believe how many people are packed into the waiting room. Uh, Abbott's got a concussion and a pair of sprains: ankle and wrist. I've got a few 'bruises and lacerations', to quote the nurse. And apparently I'll have a nice shiner tomorrow. I thought airbags were supposed to protect you!"

She lets out her breath. "All right, tell me the hospital, I'm coming over."

When she gets there, her eyes zero in on Jane with an uncanny instinct. He's a mess. His jacket is AWOL, currently serving as a bed for an eight-month-old baby, there's blood caked in his hair, and she can already tell that he's going to have _two_ black eyes.

He looks like the best thing she's seen all day. She's so focused on him that she's right beside him before she realizes that Abbott's there too.

Jane notices this, of course, and grins. "May I introduce my boss Dennis Abbott." He leans over to Abbott. "We've been together two months, and she still can't keep her eyes off me. It's like she's never seen a man before."

She puts on the fiercest face she can conjure up. Only the bruises showing under his ripped shirt prevent her from smacking him. "Shut up."

_V_   
_Is Very, very extraordinary_

"Hey, look at this!" Jane bends down, picks something off the ground.

"Did you find the bullet?" Lisbon looks down reflexively at his hand. She about jumps out of her skin. Crawling along his outstretched finger is a decidedly scary-looking bug.

"It's an alligator!"

"What?" Okay, her voice is slightly more shaky than normal.

He looks up, grinning widely. "Oh, were you scared?"

"No! I was expecting a bullet, that's all. It was unexpected." The bug is creepy. It's covered in black spines and coloured like Halloween.

"This little guy is _friendly_! He eats aphids." He looks down at the body of the gardener a few feet away. "I'll bet he was delighted that he had these in his garden."

She tries to back up surreptitiously, without attracting his notice. Fat chance. He's grinning at her again.

"There's absolutely no reason to be afraid. Do you know what he grows up to be?" She really can't express how much she doesn't care. "A ladybug!" He makes this pronouncement like it's the most extraordinary thing in the world.

And he may be right. She steps a little closer. That ugly thing (an alligator, she now knows it's called) becomes the ladybug we all know and love?

She looks up at Jane. Where would she be without him to point out the little things in life like this?

_E_   
_Is Even more than anyone that you adore can_

She's got a few drinks in her, and she's feeling a little _braver_ that normal. "Let's dance," she pouts.

Jane leads her to the dance floor, where a slow song is playing. She presses herself up against him as closely as possible.

He grins down at her. "Feeling frisky, are we? We could go home right now, if you like..."

She smiles herself, pulls away just a little bit. "Nah, let's dance awhile first." He's good, she'll give him that. She's sure no one else would have noticed his tiny gasp, and the way he froze, just for a second, to regain control of himself before making that flippant statement.

She sways to the music in tandem with him, secure in the knowledge that she is the only person on the planet who can rattle Patrick Jane.

_Love is all that I can give to you  
_ _Love is more than just a game for two_

They're sitting on the couch, enjoying a relaxing evening. Lisbon loves these moments best of all, when they're just holding each other.

Her phone goes off. Uh-oh. Jane is not going to like the interruption. She points her finger at him in warning as she fishes it out of her pocket.

She answers with a crisp "Lisbon." It's Abbott.

She knows from previous experience that she'll get about a minute's grace before Jane gets impatient. Sure enough, at about the 50-second mark, the look in his eyes starts making her wary.

Before she can figure out what he's planning, he pulls her a little further into his lap and starts kissing her neck. She can't restrain a little gasp, before remembering that her boss is still on the phone.

"What was that?"

"Uh... I stubbed my toe. Sorry." She hears Jane chuckle. She digs her elbow into his ribs, and when he lets go, she runs for the bathroom to finish her call in peace.

She comes back down the stairs five minutes later, trying (and failing) to be properly mad. "I've told you not to do that! Is it just a game to you? This is our boss! What would you think if I did that to you?"

The stupidity of that comment doesn't register with her until after it's out of her mouth. Jane jumps all over it.

"Why don't you? It'd be fun!"

She snorts. "Forget I spoke. You'd just tell Abbott what I was doing."

"Well it wouldn't surprise him. He knows we have a sexual relationship."

Her eyes widen. "Jane, please tell me you don't talk about our love life at work!"

_Two in love can make it  
_ _Take my heart and please don't break it  
_ _Love was made for me and you_

It's hard to break the habit of a decade. Lisbon knows because she tries every day.

She'd always protected her emotions, but it got worse when she met Jane. He twisted her up, mentally and emotionally. Despite her best efforts she'd fallen in love with him. But she'd known they could never be, so she'd tried to expect that he would leave at any moment. And he'd proved her right time and again.

And now she just can't seem to turn it off. She still expects him to leave at any moment. She knows it's not fair, but for the moment she has to live with it. All she can do right now is make sure Jane doesn't know. It would hurt him badly.

So far it seems to be working. At least, he hasn't seemed to notice.

Then one day she wakes up in the middle of the night and he's gone. She knows he still doesn't sleep much, but this has never happened before. He always stayed in bed, watched her sleep. He'd said that she'd watched him sleep for years, and he needed to even the score.

She's well on her way to a full-fledged panic attack by the time she turns on the lamp and notices the note.

Dear Lisbon (it reads),

Take a couple deep breaths. It is important to keep up your oxygen supply when you're having a panic attack. Try to relax. I have merely gone to the bathroom. I'll be back in a few minutes.

Love, Patrick

So much for him not knowing about her issues.

She closes her eyes. Her heart is still racing. He walks back in at that moment.

"I see you got my note."

She shuts off the light and he crawls in beside her. "I love you."

"I know." She can physically feel his smile. It's his way of saying they don't need to talk about it right now.

She snuggles up to him. There's a long hard road ahead, but she knows he'll be right there beside her every step of the way.

They'll get through this, together.

_L_   
_Is for the way you Look at me_

He wanders back in from the break room fifteen minutes later, a perfectly made cup of tea balanced in his hand. She's sitting at her desk, looking like she wants to rip his head off.

"JANE! Do you have a death wish? How dare you run off on me like that! Get over here _now_!"

He schools his features into a look of irreproachable innocence. "Yes? What?"

The look in her eyes would be enough to make the devil himself run for cover. "You know _darn well_ what! Unhandcuff me from my chair _this instant_!"

_O_   
_Is for the Only one I see_

He's been blackmailed into performing once again at the FBI fundraiser. Well, not really. Ever the showman, he thrives on the attention and the glamour.

Lisbon laughs good-naturedly and calls him vain for it. But her teasing is lighthearted, and he knows she's secretly delighted with his tricks.

On stage, he hauls up various rich volunteers and steals their money, making it appear in another person's purse. He causes assorted animals to disappear. He reads minds; promises to blackmail the mayor if he doesn't donate something.

Throughout, he watches Lisbon out of the corner of his eye. There are 921 people here tonight - but as far as he's concerned it's a private performance. He sees her trying not to laugh at the look on the mayor's face, and he's honestly surprised that he doesn't float off the stage.

He doesn't care if they don't raise a single cent. He has one goal: to see a look of amazement on her fine features. Forget these silly airheads - their approval doesn't mean a thing. He only sees the woman in the black dress, hiding from the spotlight at the back of the room. The smile on her face is worth far more to him than the thunderous applause at the end of his act.

He appears behind her, makes her jump.

"Great job. Too bad you insulted the mayor. I don't think he'll give anything now."

"Wrong. He's got a guilt complex. He'll give far more than he was planning to, to prove that he leads a blameless life."

"What's your guess?"

"He's sleeping with his brother's wife." He produces a bouquet of roses. Clichéd, sure, but he doesn't care. Love'll do that to a man. "May I have this dance?"

_V_   
_Is Very, very extraordinary_

He wakes up with a barely perceptible start. Lisbon rolls over, puts her hand on his cheek.

"It's all right honey, just another nightmare."

He stares at her in disbelief. There is no way she knew that. At the CBI he'd gotten good at hiding the fact that he was having nightmares. If a bunch of wide-awake cops never knew, how the heck could it be so obvious now that it'd disturb her sleep?

"Mmm. Go back to sleep." He puts his hand on her back. She wakes up a little more, lifts her head. Her eyes seem to bore into his soul.

"Jane- Patrick. I'm right here. I'm safe. And I'm not going away." Her pale face is caring and understanding in the moonlight. He suddenly wonders about all those times she'd woken him up at the CBI when he'd been having a nightmare. She'd always had an excellent reason, but he's never believed in coincidence...

He has to ask. "You always knew, didn't you."

She puts her head on his chest, nuzzles him a bit. "Go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning." Obviously she doesn't want to talk right now.

He massages her shoulder blades. She's already ninety percent back to sleep. He can't believe it, but all the worry and fear resultant from his nightmare have disappeared.

This woman is truly amazing.

_E_   
_Is Even more than anyone that you adore can_

"Hey, Grumpyjeans. Coffee's on the counter."

She falls on the offering like a starving shark. He grins at her. Making good coffee is a survival skill when you're living with Teresa Lisbon.

"Seriously! What do you do to this coffee? It never tastes like this when I make it. Did you hypnotize the coffeemaker?"

"Nah. The key is just to add an extra dollop of love and affection."

He'll never tell her about that expensive brand he gets that he hides in the back of the pantry. A good conjuror never reveals his tricks.

_Love is all that I can give to you  
_ _Love is more than just a game for two_

"Jane, I can't take this. It's too much."

"No, it's exactly enough."

"Jane, I don't want a ring with a stone so big that I can't lift my hand."

"You say that, but I can tell you secretly want it."

"Jane. You're not listening. I want something small and sedate. What's wrong with tradition? Let's get matching gold bands. Nothing more, nothing less."

"It's not fair. You won't let me pamper you. I have all this money and you won't let me spend it on you! What am I supposed to give you? How am I supposed to show the world that I love you?"

"We're buying wedding rings. That's a pretty good start."

_Two in love can make it  
_ _Take my heart and please don't break it  
_ _Love was made for me and you_

It's hard to break the habit of a decade. Jane knows because he tries every day.

He'd always hidden behind his persona, but it got worse when his family was murdered. He couldn't afford to let anyone get close to him; they'd just get hurt or killed. And he'd been proved right time and again. He'd been so worried about Lisbon for so long...

And now he just can't seem to turn it off. He's still convinced that loving her will end in tragedy. He knows it's not fair, but for the moment he fights guilt daily. All he can do right now is make sure Lisbon doesn't know. It would hurt her badly.

So far it seems to be working. At least, she hasn't seemed to notice.

Then one day he gets shot. She holds his hand the whole way to the hospital.

When he wakes up after surgery six hours later she's sitting there beside him. She's been crying most of that time, although she's tried valliantly to hide the fact.

He hates himself. He let her fall in love with him, and now she'll be devastated if he anything happens to him... He never should have let her in.

She's glaring at him. "Don't you dare." He can only stare at her. So much for her not knowing about his issues.

"I know what you're thinking, and _don't_. I wouldn't want it any other way. I'm happy when I'm with you. So I refuse to let you shut me out of your life."

He reaches out, holds her hand tightly. There's a long hard road ahead, but he knows she'll be right there beside him every step of the way.

They'll get through this, together.

_Love was made for me and you_   
_Love was made for me and you_


	3. Beautiful mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful Mess is sung by Diamond Rio.

_Going out of my mind these days_  
_Like I'm walkin' round in a haze  
_ _I can't think straight_

Jane spent the first little while after they got together doing nothing but concentrating on Lisbon, even at work. Especially at work. Fortunately, he was pretty sure that only Lisbon, who knew him far too well, had noticed that he was behaving strangely.

Yes, he made sure no one knew just how much Lisbon was distracting him. No one had noticed, for example, that he'd tripped over a chair the other day, or that he'd suspected the mother instead of the father in their most recent case. Still, when Lisbon cornered him and told him to smarten up, he had to agree. Even though (as he pointed out) no one had noticed anything, he swore that he'd do a better job.

In the other room, Abbott breathed a sigh of relief.

_I can't concentrate_  
_And I need a shave_

"Are you ever going to shave that off?" asked Lisbon, pointing to his beard.

Jane grinned. "No."

Just like he suspected she would, Lisbon let her underlying annoyance bubble forth. "It's scratchy."

"I thought you'd like that. You seemed to last night..."

She glared at him, trying not to smile. "Not the point."

"I'm a delicate man," he protested, mainly to see what she'd say. "This was a symbol of moving on, evidence that I was ready to be with you!" He put his hand dramatically on his heart. "Now you want to take that away from me?"

She was not impressed. "I mean so much to you that you don't shave. Right. You're getting that homeless vibe again," she warned. "I think in your other life you were a hobo."

He hung his head in mock contriteness. "All right. Just for you, I promise to shave it off. How do you feel about goatees?"

She was taken aback for several moments before she realized he was joking. "You just watch your back, or one morning you'll wake up and I'll have dyed your beard red."

"Now Lisbon, that's pretty sophomoric, wouldn't you say?"

_I go to work and I look tired_  
_The boss man says:  
"Son, you're gonna get fired_

Jane walked into work five minutes early, the result of Lisbon's nagging. He walked straight to his couch and collapsed down onto it. He was about eighty percent asleep when Abbott gathered the team in the bullpen at nine.

"Jane? Are we keeping you up?"

He kept one arm over his eyes but flopped the other in the general direction of his boss. "That's fine, Dennis. Just keep talking, you'll put me right to sleep."

He had to fight hard to keep from smiling. He knew exactly what everyone looked like: Wiley nervous yet impressed, Cho stoic, Fischer furious, Lisbon mortified, Abbott annoyed but resigned.

"Jane, you are here to consult. Therefore, you need to be awake."

"Naw, Lisbon'll fill me in on the way to the crime scene." He figured Lisbon was praying Abbott won't ask _why_ he's so tired.

"Jane, what's gotten you so tired lately? You can't keep this up." There was a very faint undercurrent of menace in his voice, but Abbott was not the kind of man to blatantly threaten one of his team in front of the others.

Jane grinned to himself. Surely the fact that he and Lisbon had come to work together answered that. "Well, Dennis..." He heard Lisbon suck in her breath and took pity on her. "This is nothing. When I was working Red John I was up for 40 hours once."

Lisbon shot him a look that was half relief and half warning. He had to admire her skill. He winked back.

_This ain't your style."  
And from behind my coffee cup_  
_I just smile_

Abbott cocked his head at him quizzically. "Are you drinking coffee?"

Jane grinned. "There's a hundred bucks at stake here. Lisbon and I were fighting about our beverage choices last night and we made a deal. She's going to drink tea all day and I'm going to have coffee. There's a bet going with Cho and Wiley as to which of us'll be crankier at the end of the day."

Lisbon appeared at that moment on the other end of the room. Together, they lifted their cups defiantly and took a sip, then grimaced in unison.

Abbott shook his head. Jane smirked. He could tell Abbott was _not_ looking forward to dealing with them for the rest of the day.

_What a beautiful mess_  
_What a beautiful mess I'm in_

Lisbon was a messy person. Not excessively so; she liked her things in a certain order, but, especially at home, she got a little careless. Jane had never really been a fan of untidy, and this bugged him.

It was nothing major, just stuff like taking books from her bookshelf and leaving them on the coffeetable. Throwing the couch pillows on the floor. Not making the bed. Dumping her clothes beside the aforementioned bed.

Jane liked a clean house. He liked not seeing dust on the dresser. He liked not having to step over things on the floor. So, he would surreptitiously (and fruitlessly) clean up when she wasn't around, grumbling to himself.

But it was, after all, _her_ mess, and gradually it grew on him a bit. And when Fischer dropped in one night and raised her eyebrows at the mess, he jumped to Lisbon's defense and surprised himself.

The untidyness was _hers_. And he no longer wanted to change it. He loved it.

_Spendin' all my time with you_  
_There's nothin' else I'd rather do  
_ _What a sweet addiction that I'm caught up in_

Lisbon woke up one morning with a temperature. She tried to insist that she was perfectly fine, and it took all of Jane's abilities to keep her home. He was actually worried that he'd have to tie her to the bed, at one point.

Then he insisted on staying with her. Abbott let him, but only because he was smart enough to realize Jane wouldn't do any work if he was forced to come in.

Lisbon didn't understand why he stayed home. "You're doing this to torture me, right?" she asked, lolling limply on the pillows.

"Now, now, Teresa. I know you like the company. We could play a board game! Here. I got Monopoly." He ignored her groans and set up on the coverlet.

They played Monpoly for two hours and he cheated just enough to keep her alert. The whole point was to distract her from how bad she was feeling, and he was pleased at how well it was working.

"Jane! You just stole 200$!"

"No I didn't!"

"Give it back!"

"I'm the banker! It's a loan to myself!"

" _Jane_..."

He grinned. Whenever she said his name that way, it meant she couldn't think of anything else to say and that he'd won.

He would never say so, because it sounded pathetic to his own ears, but he'd actually stayed back just because he liked spending time with her, no matter how bad she was feeling.

He slipped her 300$ without her noticing, so she wouldn't go bankrupt. He wanted this game to continue until lunch at least.

_'Cause I can't get enough  
_ _Can't stop the hunger for your love_  
_What a beautiful, what a beautiful mess I'm in_

Jane loved, almost above all else, finding new things to surprise Lisbon with. The key, he found, was to be unconventional and unpredictable.

He'd promised her flowers on their latest case, so the next day he produced a cactus and set it down in front of her with a flourish. "I figured gift-wrapping it wasn't a good idea."

Lisbon was trying not to look delighted. He knew she felt that she shouldn't show any appreciation, because she thought people around her would think she was nuts, loving a cactus. But he'd bet dollars to doughnuts that when they got home she would put it on a shelf where she'd see it every morning. And probably forget to water it, but he would take care of that.

She wouldn't thank him in words, he knew. But it was enough for him to see the sparkle in her eye. It made him start planning his next gift right away.

_This morning put salt in my coffee_  
_I put my shoes on the wrong feet_

Lisbon had had a restless night. Now she was standing in the break room, her coffee finally ready. She reached out for the sugar and Jane appeared behind her. "Lisbon, you don't want to do that."

She almost dumped her coffee down the front of her shirt. "I am not in the mood to hear you tell me once again how bad coffee is for me!" she snarled.

Jane tried again, looking hurt. "Lisbon, that's not what I meant-"

"Jane, I don't want to hear it." She dumped a spoonful of sugar in her steaming cup and brought it defiantly to her lips.

Only to spit it out all over Jane's suit. She hacked and spit while Jane roared with laughter. "What _was that_?" she choked.

Jane swiped ineffectually at his jacket. "I tried to tell you," he said, still gasping with laughter. "That's a bowl of salt. Wiley was using salt to demonstrate some chemical thing for the case last night and no one threw it out." He looked wounded. "But still, _I'm_ not the one who put the salt there. Why'd you spit up all over _me_?"

"Better your shirt than mine," she retorted haughtily. "Consider it payback for trying to make me dump it all over myself just now." Lisbon poured her coffee down the sink and stomped out with as much dignity as she can muster. Curse the man. He could have tried harder to tell her that was salt.

But when he showed up at her desk ten minutes later with a perfect cup of coffee in his hand, it sure was hard to stay mad at him...

_I'm losin' my mind, I swear  
It might be the death of me_  
_But I don't care_

Lisbon dug through the pile of clothes on the floor, wondering where that purple shirt was she especially wanted to wear that day. She was sure she'd laid it on the bed as Jane walked out to make breakfast. Now it had disappeared. Was she hallucinating?

"Jane, have you seen my shirt?" She walked into the kitchen in her bra and black pants.

Jane grinned at the sight. "Yup."

"So you know where it is?"

"Yup."

"I need it."

Jane nodded.

"Do I get it back?" she snapped.

"Eventually."

"Jane! I do not want to be late for work because of your stupid tricks!"

Jane sighed. "Fine. Your shirt's on your bed."

"But I just looked there-" She gave a sharp snort of disgust and disappeared upstairs again. Sure enough, the shirt was lying on the bed, right where she'd spent ten minutes looking for it. She shrugged into it, smiling. She really should be mad at him.

 _Should_ being the operative word there.

_Is it your eyes?  
Is it your smile?_  
_All I know is that you're drivin' me wild_

"Don't you ever get tired of being right?" she asked grumpily.

The man she was currently talking to merely smiled down at her irritatingly. It ground her gears that he didn't even have to say a word in order to get her blood up. All he had to do was smile at her.

"You don't have to gloat."

"I didn't say anything," he pointed out cheerfully. There was a faint laugh in his eye that only served to enrage her.

"You don't have to and you know it!"

_What a beautiful mess_  
_What a beautiful mess I'm in_

Lisbon loved dressing up for Jane. There was something very satisfying, so very flattering in the surprised look on his face whenever he saw her in a particularly fetching dress. Yes, it was nice to dress up and have his eyes on her all the time.

But what she loved best was the look on his face when she first woke up and was looking at him bleary-eyed. She would almost swear he liked her better with her hair all messed up and sans makeup (not that she wore much anyway) than dressed up to the nines.

He would run his hand through her hair until it stood up in all directions like some sort of punk rocker. Then he'd kiss her, disregarding morning breath, and leap out of bed to make her coffee.

When he'd come back upstairs with it he'd tell her she looked a fright and why wasn't she out of bed yet? So she'd throw a pillow at him (after he'd set down the coffee) and he would grin and disappear downstairs again, leaving her slumped back on the pillows, a sleepy smile on her face.

She loved starting her mornings like this.

_Spendin' all my time with you_  
_There's nothin' else I'd rather do  
_ _What a sweet addiction that I'm caught up in_

Abbott strode up to Cho. "Who's in there?" They were staring at the elevator, which had just broken down.

"Jane, Lisbon and Fischer."

Abbott whistled. "Can't say I wish I was in there with them."

Cho almost chuckled. "Me either."

The two men were standing there ready to greet the refugees when the technicians finally got things moving again an hour later. Fischer bolted out first. Like a bullet from a gun, and looking very harried. Jane and Lisbon followed, looking mellow and relaxed, laughing and chatting. Lisbon found Fischer in the break room.

"You look like you want to throw a few cups against the wall," she pointed out, amused. "Go ahead. The janitors are used to Jane."

Fischer looked up at her wonderingly. "How do you put up with him all the time?"

Lisbon was slightly surprised. "He really wasn't that bad in the elevator. Just Twenty Questions and Truth or Dare."

Fischer shot her a poisonous look. "This is my point. That doesn't bother you anymore." She stood up and walked out. Lisbon faintly heard her ask Abbott for time off, citing 'a traumatic experience'. She leaned back against the counter, thinking about what Fischer had said. No, she didn't 'put up' with Jane's behavior anymore. She loved it.

She smiled and set out in search of Jane. She would have to give him a stern talking-to. It really wouldn't do for him to go around giving his fellow agents mental breakdowns. He was only allowed to do that to her.

_'Cause I can't get enough  
_ _Can't stop the hunger for your love_  
_What a beautiful, what a beautiful mess I'm in_

Lisbon sighed. Not that she wasn't excited about moving into their new place, but at the moment all she could think about was the myriad boxes surrounding her that required unpacking. At least Jane wasn't around. He'd been called out to a case far enough away that he would be spending the night and she'd insisted that he go. Not only could she not condone him skipping work whenever he felt like it, but she might actually be done more quickly without him. She'd been rather relieved when he'd actually obeyed, albeit with very bad grace.

She plunked herself down in the living room and ripped open the first box determinedly. She was onto the third box when she saw it: a little message scrawled in magic marker on the side. It read: 'Keep up the good work!'

She smiled, pleased. She'd have a little bit of Jane here with her after all. She was humming cheerfully when she found the next message. 'Help me, I'm trapped!' She chuckled to herself.

It became a game, discovering the little messages he'd left her. The afternoon flew by and the work didn't seem so boring anymore. In the kitchen she found a box that had the warning 'Handle roughly' and another that said 'I just wanna be free!'

In the bedroom she found a poem.

'Roses are red,  
violets are blue,  
you look like a monkey  
and smell like one too.

Don't forget to take a shower when you're done!'

She glared at it and wondered just how he could be an eight hour's drive away and still manage to get under her skin. But since there was no one around she allowed a small smile to creep around the edges of her mouth.

She was almost finished - two boxes left - when she found the last message. 'I'll be back soon. I love you.' She sat there for a couple minutes, just looking at the message with a soft light in her eyes. She shook her head. He wasn't even gone 24 hours and she was already wanting him back. She was a fool, but at least she knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I just about shrieked with laughter when I read the following news article and had to include it for others' merriment:  
> cbc ca/news/canada/nova-scotia/woman-scales-security-fence-at-halifax-airport-1.2732702 (Just add a period after "cbc".)  
> This is my answer to anyone who still wonders just how Jane got away with dodging airport security.


	4. The rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one turned out more serious than the others. The song this time wasn't so happy-go-lucky. Still romantic, in my opinion, but there's not as much humour here.  
> Song credit goes to The Rose by Bette Midler (cameo appearances by Drivin' My Life Away by Eddie Rabbit and So Much Like My Dad by George Strait).

_Some say love, it is a river  
That drowns the tender reed_

"Teresa? The sink's plugged."

The object of his affection appeared from the living room, looking very annoyed. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" he defended himself. "It's plugged. That's not necessarily my fault."

Ten minutes later Lisbon was flat on her back under the kitchen sink, hauling on the S-curve portion of the pipe with a wrench while Jane offered helpful suggestions nearby.

"Put your shoulder into it!"

"Bite me!" she snarled. The bolt creaked open another eighth of an inch. A trickle of water rolled down.

"You can do it!" he cheered.

He was sitting in a kitchen chair right in front of her, so when she twisted to get a better grip, she banged her shins on the leg of the chair. That was enough. She never wanted to see him ever again in this life!

"Go. Away!" She heaved on the pipe with all her pent-up anger and the two sections of pipe came loose, sending a jet of water straight into Jane's face. Soaked herself, she took one look at Jane, sputtering madly and doing his best impression of a drowned rat, and burst into helpless laughter.

_Some say love, it is a razor_   
_That leaves your soul to bleed_

Lisbon sat alone and lonely at her desk, finishing up the last of her paperwork. The events of the last two days were running in a constant loop in her head.

Jane had solved the case by shamelessly flirting with the murderer's mistress. Now that she was his girlfriend, those sorts of stunts actually hurt. When she'd seen the bouquet of flowers he'd sent the mistress, her heart had twisted up, and not in the that's-so-romantic-I-can't-believe-it's-for-me way. More like the does-he-love-her-more-than-me way.

She put down her pen in disgust as she realized that she'd just written 'flirted with the suspect' instead of 'interrogated the suspect'. In pen, too. She'd have to redo the whole sheet. Sighing, she stuffed the paperwork into her briefcase. She'd finish it tonight, at home.

As she stepped out of the elevator, the first thing she saw was Jane waiting for her, a blue balloon bouncing merrily above him on a silver ribbon. She been planning to rake him over the coals the instant he hove into view, but the sight of that _stupid_ balloon made her lose her entire train of thought.

His face lit up when he saw her. Before she knew what was happening, he was walking beside her, his hand on her back, and the silver ribbon was tied to her left wrist.

"A balloon," she stated flatly, as his apology bobbed along cheerfully above them.

"Don't you love it?" he tossed back exuberantly. "Come on, I'm taking you to dinner."

She shook her head ruefully. She was quite simply incapable of staying angry at him.

And she didn't have any real desire to lose the balloon, either.

_Some say love, it is a hunger_   
_An endless aching need_

Jane kept an emergency supply of food at the FBI for Lisbon. She had a tendency to forget to eat, which in turn led to low blood sugar and general crankiness. And it wasn't the kind of crankiness he enjoyed.

He was constantly surprised by how much she could eat. Considering how small she was, it was really very impressive. But she just wouldn't acknowledge how important eating was. Not like he did. Eating was one of the most important pleasures in life, and he reveled in that fact.

It was a good thing for her, he reflected, that she had him around. Otherwise, she'd spend her days eating Kraft Dinner.

He shuddered at the thought.

_I say love, it is a flower_   
_And you, its only seed_

She spotted him sitting in the grass not too far away.

"I made you something!" Triumphantly he held up a daisy chain.

"You ran off when I was interrogating a suspect!" she snapped.

"Nah, he's not a suspect. He didn't do it. He didn't even see anything." Jane stood up and plopped the chain on her head like she was some kind of hippy.

Lisbon reached up to wrench it off but Jane stopped her arm. "Don't do that! You look so nice in it!"

"Don't evade the issue!" she stormed. "You ran off on me, to make _daisy chains_?"

"I was bored!" he defended himself.

"You can't just pick and choose what jobs you do-"

"Actually I can. And do."

She glared at him, furious, realizing the truth of that.

"But I wasn't just making daisy chains. As it happens, I also found the murder weapon." He flourished his hand towards what, upon closer inspecton, turned out to be a gun, barely visible among the flowers.

Lisbon gave him a look that said: Why couldn't you tell me before? and went over to direct CSU so they could take pictures. Jane followed, grinning.

She was still wearing the wreath.

_It's the heart, afraid of breaking,_   
_That never learns to dance_

Lisbon liked to dance around her home every now and then. Given the right circumstances, of course. She had to be relaxed, had to have finished all her work, had to be feeling just a bit restless - it was a sort of therapy she indulged in occasionally. She never let anyone see her.

Of course Jane would be the first to find out. She'd had to let him in on her secret years ago, had had to allow him to watch. But he had divined that it was immensely personal to her and had never so much as brought it up again.

Then, as now, he loved watching her twirl around the house. She always seemed so free, so uninhibited. Dancing required letting her emotions show, and that was something she didn't do often. He was pleased that she trusted him enough to let him watch. The years fell away and he could glimpse the little girl she was once (and still was, deep inside).

But he would only watch. Just dancing around for fun required courage he didn't have. It would have meant opening himself up to possible ridicule and teasing, and he didn't like not having control over how she teased him.

He never would get up and dance with her.

Fortunately, perhaps, she never noticed.

_It's the dream, afraid of waking,_   
_That never takes the chance_

They were walking along the beach after a lovely meal at a fancy restaurant. He'd planned it down to the last detail. It was the perfect way to propose. The sun was just setting...

As he rolled the ring around in his fingers, he was hit by a paralysing wave of doubt. Above all else, he didn't want to spoil the wonderful dream they were living. Given her commitment issues, possibly she would get scared, decide she couldn't be with him for the rest of her life.

He put the ring back in his pocket. Not yet, he decided. He'd let things develop a little more.

Next time, he promised himself. (It was the third time he'd copped out.)

_It's the one who won't be taken,_   
_Who cannot seem to give_

They were sitting at the table after supper, trying to decide what to do for the evening.

Jane's face lit up. "I know! Let's watch a movie. What was your childhood favourite?"

Lisbon grinned. "Guess."

"Nah, that's okay. Go ahead, tell me."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure you already know."

An undefinable something, a hardness almost, settled in Jane's face.

"What?"

"Look. I _don't_ know. I could guess, and I know I'd be right, but it'd still be a guess. You never tell me anything about yourself. When's the last time I found something out about you _without_ guessing?" Lisbon stared at him. Their carefree mood had completely evaporated.

"Well, that's rich," she snarled, "coming from you. When's the last time you told me something about yourself when it wasn't to get me to do something for you? You never even told me your wife's name. I only know from your file!"

He looked at her for a long moment, his expression still indecipherable, then turned and went into the living room.

"No!" She followed him. He was sitting on the couch, staring into space. "You can't just run away when the conversation doesn't go the way you want!" She waited, seething, for his response.

He finally gave a soft sigh. "I was born in Burney, a no-account town in northern California..."

Astonished, she sat down carefully on the other end of the couch. Jane talked on for half an hour before falling abruptly silent, looking tired to death. Panicking, Lisbon suddenly realized that now it was her turn. Jane looked at her contemptfully.

"Don't worry, Teresa, I didn't tell you all that so you'd open up about yourself," he said, and the scorn in his voice was terrible to hear. "I'm going to bed."

It took her two hours and three glasses of wine to work up the courage to follow him to their bedroom. She defiantly turned on the light there and saw that he was only feigning sleep anyway.

She changed quickly; the sick feeling in her stomach only intensified as she noticed that for the first time ever, he wasn't watching her undress. She doused the light and crawled under the covers. She lay there staring at the blackness above her, trying to gather her nerve and ignore the coldness emanating from the man beside her.

Finally, in a very small, quiet voice, she began: "My favourite childhood movie was Mary Poppins..."

_And the soul, afraid of dying,_   
_That never learns to live_

She was rather surprised to see her son walk in the front door unannounced. Since he'd moved so far away they only saw him a few times a year. But she found out why almost right away.

"It's Shelley. She says she's had enough, Mom. She says she's gonna leave, it's too late for me to do anything about it." He looked at his mother, trying oh-so-hard not to cry. She was instantly transported back over thirty years, to a plane leaving for D.C.

(It's too late. Jane, it's too late.)

"I tried everything, but she wouldn't listen, and I got this crazy idea. You've always said I'm exactly like Dad."

She nodded, confused.

"Then you've gotta have felt that way about him before."

(You don't give a damn about what I want or need. I am just a convenience for you.)

"I just want to know what he told you, that made you stay."

(You're right. I-I have forgotten how to act like a normal human being. And I play games and I lie and I- and I trick people to avoid the truth of how I feel. But the truth, Teresa, is that I can't imagine waking up knowing that I won't see you. The truth is... I love you.)

"Honey," she said as gently as possible, "I can't fix this for you. You have to find your own words." He sat, dejected, before her. She reached out and held his hand. "Just tell her the truth."

"Sure," he said bitterly. "Hey Shelley, I've got some truth here for you. You know Darth Vader? He's Luke's father."

She couldn't help smiling. "Your father said that exact same thing to me once, you know."

Her son looked up hopefully. "Did it make you smile?"

"No. It made me want to strangle him. Listen, honey. You need to tell her the most important truth in your heart. Be patient. It'll take awhile for it to sink in."

(You let me sit in that room for 14 hours, woman?)

"What if she takes that truth and breaks my heart with it?"

"If you don't want to take that risk, then I understand why she says it's too late." She had never pulled her punches, and didn't intend to start now.

(I needed to get to this, and you deserve to hear it.)

She stood up on creaky legs - she'd had her knees replaced from tackling one too many suspects - and wrapped her arms around her son. "It'll be okay," she told him. "If she loves you, she'll come around. After all," she added, eyes twinkling at her husband who'd just walked in, "I did."

_When the night has been too lonely_   
_And the road has been too long_

"You better let me drive."

"No."

"Okay, that's your reflex, but you really need to take a break. You're falling asleep."

"I'm fine."

Jane eyed her narrowly. "No you're not."

"Doesn't matter," she said, trying not to smile, "me half-asleep is safer than you fully awake."

"Now that's just rude. And completely false, too, I might add."

She snorted. "So _you_ say."

"Well, I've got to keep you awake somehow. I'll sing something.  
 _Oooooooh, I'm drivin' my life away..._ "

Lisbon smacked him. "Stop it!"

" _Lookin' for a better way, for meeee..._ "

"If I let you drive, will you shut up?"

"Probably."

_And you feel that love is only_   
_For the lucky, and the strong_

"What's up? And _don't_ say nothing."

She shot him a glare.

"You've been avoiding something all day. Out with it, before I figure it out myself and you get mad at me for invading your mind."

"Fine." She took a deep breath. "Look, I haven't had my period for three months now... I-" she gulped- "I think I'm pregnant."

Jane eyed her skeptically. He knew what a pregnant woman was like, and Lisbon was not it. But given her mental state at the moment, he knew the approriate thing was to bundle her into the car to fetch some pregnancy tests (something he knew she hadn't worked up the nerve to do yet) instead of teasing her mercilessly. He would do the latter later anyway.

She bought five different brands at the pharmacy, much to Jane's amusement. Back home, he was smart enough to stay in the kitchen and make himself a cup of tea when she retreated to the bathroom.

She walked slowly into the kitchen half an hour later, just as Jane was debating the merits of going and checking on her (making sure she hadn't been kidnapped versus having a hairbrush thrown at his head... hmm).

"It's negative," she said quietly. He was curious. Relief stuck out all over her, but she still looked like a cat on a hot tin roof, and she wasn't meeting his eye. He set out to discover why.

"Oh, that's okay," he assured her cheerfully (not upset, because he'd known she wasn't pregnant). "I don't think I could handle you without coffee for eight months."

He succeeded in no less than his intended goal: she looked straight at him. The look on her face hit him like a punch in the gut. Her eyes held mute appeal, and he knew instantly what was wrong.

She hadn't wanted the baby. She didn't feel ready, didn't want a child; something like that - it didn't really matter _why_. He would ferret out the whys and wherefores later. What mattered right now was that she knew he knew, and she was terrified that he would hate her for it. She was convinced that he would be disgusted with her if she wasn't strong, able to cope with anything.

There hadn't been many moments in Jane's life where he didn't think teasing Lisbon was the right thing to do, but this was one of them. He reached out gently and gathered her into his arms. He stroked her hair, and slowly she wrapped her own arms around him in return.

"I _love_ you. I love _you,_ " he murmured. The changing emphasis was subtle, though studied, and it had the desired effect. He could feel her heartbeat steady slightly. Not slow down, yet, but that would come in time.

For now, they would just stand in the kitchen, her hug an unspoken apology, his hug silent forgiveness.

_Just remember, in the winter_   
_Far beneath the bitter snow_   
_Lies a seed, that with the sun's love_   
_In the spring becomes a rose..._

Abbott watched them walk out to their car, Jane's arm around her.

It had been touch and go for a while there, but in the end they'd had too much history together. It was impossible to imagine them apart. He smiled. He was glad they'd made it (with a little of his help, of course). They deserved a happy ending after everything they'd been through.

It _almost_ made him forgive Jane for having insulted the AG.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, in that last one, Abbott fancies himself to be the sun.


	5. Little things mean a lot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Things Mean A Lot by Willie Nelson (yes, I know Kitty Kallen made it famous, but I'm using Willie's version of the lyrics). There's an obvious tip of the hat to Corner Gas here too - you'll either get it or you won't.

_Blow her a kiss from across the room_   
_Say she looks nice when she's not_

"Jane, what is this?"

Jane didn't look up from his tea. "I will never understand why you ask questions you already know the answer too. Please spare me the pain of guessing and just tell me already."

Lisbon took a deep breath to try and calm down. (It didn't work.) "The thermostat is set to 72 degrees."

"So? That's room temperature."

"Room temperature is 70! Everyone knows that!"

"There's no need to yell. Especially when what you're shouting is not true."

Lisbon poked at the innocent thermostat viciously. "It is _so_ true!" she growled, not caring that she sounded like a five-year-old. Jane had that effect on her. "There," she announced, looking at him triumphantly. "70. And if you touch it again I'll break both your arms."

Two hours later Lisbon was standing in front of the thermostat again. "72?" she shrieked.

Jane was reading a book across the room. He swallowed down a smile and heaved a sigh. "What is your objection? You can't even feel the difference."

"A, I can too feel the difference. I'm so hot right now-"

Jane blew her a kiss. "You sure are, baby."

She shot him a look that would take the paint off the wall. " _B_ , if you can't feel the difference, then just leave it at 70!"

"Oh, I said _you_ can't. I, on the other hand, have much more sensitive skin, so I can detect these minute atmospheric changes. I'm shivering when it's at 70."

"Bite me. This thermostat is set at 70, and it is going to _stay_ at 70. Do you hear me?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Let's compromise..."

When Cho came over that night to return a book he'd borrowed, he found Lisbon dressed in a tank and shorts, sipping a Coke on ice. Jane, on the other end of the couch, was huddled in a colourful afgan, holding a steaming cup of tea.

On the wall, the thermostat read 71.

_Touch her hair as you pass her chair_   
_Little things mean a lot_

"Damn it!" Lisbon glared at her overdue credit statement.

Sitting on the floor with a bin of Lego, her sweet, angelic, innocent 18-month-old son looked up, beaming, and said distinctly: "Damit!"

Lisbon stared at him, shell-shocked. Jane burst into laughter. He ruffled her hair as he walked past. "Have to watch that dirty mouth of yours, dear."

_Give her your arm as you cross the street_   
_Call her at six on the dot_

They watched as a bolt of light crossed the sky.

"A shooting star!"

"A helicopter, Teresa."

"Spoilsport."

"Doesn't matter. I know what your wish was and I can make it come true."

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh yeah? What I wanted was-"

"-Ice cream!" they chorused. Lisbon shook her head. Jane grinned.

"Come on, milady." He stood up, holding out his arm like an old-fashioned gentleman. She sighed. What a fool he was sometimes. But (she looked around surreptitiously) she didn't see anyone she knew - so she allowed him to lead her across the street.

_A line a day when you're far away_   
_Little things mean a lot_

Lisbon sat at her desk, staring at the pristine, virgin piece of paper that was staring back at her. She was halfway through (okay, one day in, but it _felt_ like halfway through) a week-long conference for FBI agents. She had three lectures scheduled every day, each one about a different aspect of her job, each one personally interesting. She was bored out of her mind.

So here she sat, having decided to write Jane. It had seemed like such a good idea six minutes previously. Now she was staring at her desk. How should she start? Dear Jane? Dear Patrick? Dear Paddy? She wrote down _Dear Jane,_ and promptly lost her train of thought.

Maybe she should write on the same plan as the ones she'd received from Jane, from the island. She closed her eyes. Jane had simply written down his thoughts. Well, she thought too. She could do the same. She opened her eyes. She concentrated. She couldn't muster a single thought.

Just great. All she wanted was to write a letter that Jane would appreciate as much as the ones she'd received from him. Now she was realizing that, just like the man himself, they were deceptively straightforward and impossible to imitate.

Finally, she began: _I have no idea why I'm writing you. You phone every day. But I'm bored and have nothing better to do._

She reread it approvingly. It was pleasingly free of sentiment. She had no intention of turning this into a love letter. She relaxed into her chair and began to write faster. She described the breakfasts served at the motel. She smiled as she wrote down the things they were learning about analysing crime scenes and how they would never apply to him. Without quite realizing, longing for home crept into her writing. Before she knew what she was doing, she was telling him what she missed about him and how she couldn't wait to be home. Then she was signing it _Love, Teresa_ and walking out to the mailbox.

He never mentioned it when she came home, and she was rather relieved. After all, she'd never talked about the letters he'd sent her. And before very long the whole thing passed straight out of her head.

But when, many years later, she took down the box where she'd carefully kept _his_ letters, she found her letter sitting on top, deep creases testifying to its having been read and reread.

 _Don't have to buy her diamonds and pearls_  
 _Champagne, sables and stuffs  
_ _She doesn't care much for diamonds and pearls_  
 _She'll laugh and say, "Honey, they just cost money"_

"Jane, are these _sapphire_ earrings?"

"They're beautiful, aren't they."

"What on earth possessed you to buy these? Was it what that woman said?"

"I resent the implication that a murder suspect's comments on cheap husbands could possibly influence my actions. I saw them in the store and had a burning desire to see them complement your eyes, as they do - wonderfully."

"I can't keep these, Jane."

"Ah-ah-ah - you're my wife now, so you aren't allowed to return my gifts. If you do, you'll absolutely crush me."

"Jane, I don't want expensive jewelry. I just -"

"Go ahead, finish your thought."

"Not with you grinning at me like that."

"You were going to say you just want me, am I right? How romantic of you!"

"Shut up."

_So give her your hand when she's lost the way_   
_And give her your shoulder to cry on_

Lisbon sat in the hospital bed, cursing up a blue streak in her mind. 'Keeping her for observation' they'd said. She couldn't see why. So she'd gotten shot. Who cared? It was a graze along her side, nothing else. Her ribs weren't even broken, just cracked.

Jane walked in, a cup of coffee in his hand. "Brought you something!" he announced cheerfully. He set it down beside her, ignoring her grumbly temper. "Let's see what we've got," he said, sitting down on the bed and turning his attention to the ancient TV hanging from the ceiling.

"My leg!" she snapped, moving it abruptly so he wouldn't sit on it. "I'm in the hospital, remember? You're supposed to treat me gently."

"Leg, schmeg. You got shot in your side, as I recall," he retorted, glancing at her.

"And it was _your_ fault! You should be nice to me right now."

Jane shrugged. He pushed the ON button on the remote a couple times before the TV flickered to life. It did not exhibit proper TV behavior. The image was split, with the bottom half of the screen at the top, and vice versa. He stood up and thwacked the small black contraption. It swung crazily from side to side and the bolts that kept it suspended in the air creaked alarmingly. It buzzed a couple times before the picture straightened out enough for them to be able to recognize the show. It was the eight o'clock news.

"-an FBI agent was shot at the scene. She was taken to the hospital with non life-threatening injuries. We do not currently have an update on her condition-"

"Would you shut that off?" asked Lisbon irritably. She hated hearing about herself on the news, especially when something had gone wrong. "I don't even want the TV on."

"Oh, I know. But _I_ do. It's boring just sitting in the hospital beside you."

" _What_?"

Jane ignored her again, having found an animal documentary.

"-the elephant is the only mammal that cannot jump. The African elephant-"

"I've been shot! _I'm_ the one who should decide whether or not we watch TV!"

Jane shrugged. " _I've_ got the remote."

She lay there, seething. "And I hate animal documentaries. At least put on the game or something!"

He shook his head. "Nope."

She lunged for him. He danced off the bed gracefully. She felt the muscles in her side stretch uncomfortably, and she fell back among the pillows, gasping in sudden pain. Against her will, a tear rolled down her cheek. Jane instantly was by her side, his arm encircling her. She rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, slowly forgetting the pain.

"Careful," he admonished her. "If you keep that up they'll make you stay for another day."

"This- this qualifies as abuse!" she complained, surreptitiously sliding her hand towards the remote.

Grinning at her attempt, he stood up. "Oh, come on. You need something to occupy your brain. Why not learn about elephants?" He sat down in a chair (out of her reach) and turned his rapt attention to the black-and-white picture.

"Will you guys cut it out?" came an annoyed voice from the other side of the curtain. "I'm getting a headache!"

"See? You're disturbing the patients!" she hissed, embarassed.

He pondered this. "Actually, you're the one who's been yelling. I've been the adult here, talking in a reasonable tone."

She groaned sharply, sinking back into bed, closing her eyes. In the sudden silence she heard that accursed TV again.

"-a thousand-mile trek across the desert to find water-"

She willed herself to ignore it. And, oddly enough, the sparring with Jane had tuckered her out. She could actually feel herself drifting off. Just before she completely surrendered to the darkness, she heard the TV click off, then felt Jane resting his hand on hers. His lips brushed her temple softly.

"Sleep well, Teresa. I'll see you in the morning."

_Whether the day is sunny or gray_   
_Give her your heart to rely on_

"No, no, come on!" Jane pulled at Lisbon's hand. He had just flopped down in the grass, his back against a tree, and Lisbon was refusing to join him.

"Jane, we're in the middle of a public park. I'm not going to sit in the grass. There's perfectly good benches around."

"But the sunset will be so beautiful from here," he coaxed. "You agreed we'd come take a walk to relax - well, I want to relax here."

Sighing in defeat, she gave in, dropping down and settling herself between his legs, her back against his chest. His arms curled around her, warm and gentle. It was awkward to be sitting up straight, so she adjusted her seat and leaned her head back. She ran her hands idly on his thighs, then rested them over his interlaced fingers.

Jane smiled. Her head was resting on his shoulder. If he so wished, his chin would rest perfectly atop her head. He tilted his head back instead, ignoring the roughness of the bark. The tension slowly dripped from her frame, settling her more comfortably into his embrace. He noted the exact moment she fell asleep, and was glad of it. She'd been up for two days trying to solve a kidnapping and she was running on fumes. Coffee fumes, that is.

He could still hardly believe that she trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms. It was a display of weakness he knew very few people had ever been entrusted with. Giving in to temptation, he set his chin gently on top of her head, breathing in her scent and ignoring the cheesiness of the gesture. Her smell was comforting, gradually chasing away the pain he'd felt during this last case. Young girls being kidnapped was never going to be an easy day at work for him.

He gazed out at the sunset hues of purple and red. In his more poetic moments he always thought of Mother Nature as his first true love. She was beautiful, immune to his manipulations, not tolerating fools but still incredibly gentle on occasion. Much like the woman in his arms, he mused. He captured one of her hands in his own and softly stroked it with his fingers.

A teenaged couple walked by, patently trying not to look the man and woman under the tree. Safely out of earshot, the girl turned to the boy, pouting, the stamp of immaturity written all over her features.

"Did you see that? She was totally asleep! It's so sad when people get old. Promise me we'll never get boring like that, huh baby?"

 _Send her the warmth of a secret smile  
_ _To show her you haven't forgot_

The calm, peaceful fall afternoon was suddenly shattered by earsplitting shrieks. Lisbon sat bolt upright on her lawn chair. Her five-year-old son came running up to her, sobbing violently.

"My arm!" he bawled, barely coherent.

She peered closely at the offending limb. His elbow was scraped and oozing a couple drops of blood. Uttering soothing sounds, she picked him up and gathered him into her lap. Jane appeared, looking ever-so-slighly sheepish.

"We were playing tag and he tripped."

Lisbon smiled at him to show that she wasn't worried. She patted her son on the head. "Hey baby, let Mommy see again."

Still crying, her son pushed his arm into her face. She pulled a Kleenex out of her pocket (she'd taken to carrying some everywhere she went, to Jane's great amusement) and wiped off the blood, then kissed it. "There! All better now?"

Her son sniffed. "Uh-huh," he gulped. She kissed his forehead.

His daddy scooped him up. "Sure you're all right now! Mommy's very good at fixing you when you're hurt and feeling sad, am I right?" He looked over at his wife, his gentle smile speaking volumes.

She blushed and smiled back, soft crinkles around her eyes.

_'Cause always and ever, for now and forever_   
_Little things mean a lot_

A door slammed upstairs. Jane sighed. Why did Lisbon have to get physical when she was angry? He heard the distant whoosh of pipes as the shower started up. Uh-oh. She only retreated to the bathroom when she was very upset, knowing it was the only door in the house whose lock he didn't dare pick.

Really, he didn't see what the problem was. All right, so he'd outted the Governor of Texas as gay. And yes, maybe his political career was pretty much shot. But this was the twenty-first century! People shouldn't be so narrow-minded anymore. Too bad Lisbon hadn't appreciated this point when he'd tried explaining it to her.

Fortunately she'd forgotten to bring a towel into the bathroom with her. That'd make it easier to apologize. He calculated that she'd be in the shower another twenty minutes. Perfect. He went to the closet and pulled out a fluffy white towel, then headed to the basement.

In the upstairs bathroom, Lisbon shut off the water precisely eighteen minutes later. She stepped out of the tub, shivering slightly but not caring. She was still unspeakably mad at Jane. Unfortunately, that was the moment she realized she was towelless. Now she had two options: run out naked for one herself (and risk Jane's amused commentary) or call for Jane to bring her one. Both were fraught with humiliation. She was debating the merits of drying off with a hand towel that didn't even cover her butt when Jane knocked at the door.

"What?" she snarled out of embarassment and residual anger.

"I've got a towel here for you." Jane waited patiently. Sure enough, Lisbon threw open the door. He settled a look of appropriate sheepishness upon his features.

"I'm still mad at you," she clarified. As if her death glare required any elucidation.

He held out the towel, wordlessly. She snatched it out of his hand. He grinned at the look of shock on her face. He'd run it through the dryer for the last twenty minutes and it was wonderfully warm. She wrapped her body in it instantly, trying and failing to muster up her glare again. Jane smiled at her widely, all penitence gone from his face. He shut the door quietly and set off down the stairs, whistling cheerfully.

Another Lisbon rage successfully neutralized.


End file.
